Thursday, June 5, 2014

Toward the end of each California Wilderness program, each student has the opportunity to do a "solo"-- a span of several days spent in solitude. Lily Westphal writes about her solo experience, and how time alone helped strengthen her connection to body, self and nature.

I don't ever want to forget the way I feel today - the way I
feel right now.

I want to scoop it in a jar and drink it when doubt feeds
the belly of the beast that tells me No.

I want so badly to share it and at the same time I'm hesitant
to even try and explain. Words might fail its preciousness. But I am really
going to try! Maybe my words will draw merely a smudgy idea of this feeling and
maybe that is good enough for now.

Almost two months deep and we are steeped in the beauty of
the Yolla Bolly Mountains. Oak and Pine trees sprout upwards on either side of
us, holding the Eel River in place. Our footsteps are the first of the human
kind to move across this land this year. This wilderness in particular seems
playful and mischievous, yet so warm and welcoming. The past four days have
been spent on solo. Four days spent with our wild selves in this wild nature.
It is amazing to think that before solo I had never been alone for more than a
few hours before seeing another person. It is also amazing to think about
how in the people-filled buzz of our front country lives it is possible, and
very likely, to live an entire lifetime without really spending good, deep
quality time with your person, yourself, alone.

My spot, my nest, is a series of pools spilling down and
down and down and down into more pools of deep turquoise and emerald greens.
Big rocks grow from the riverbed and I hop from rock to rock, scrambling in my
play, insistent in my search to find the one that fits. Finally settling in,
pressed against the warm rock, its curves fit my curves and we are one rock. My
soft body against hard body rock, belonging to each other. I belong here. I
belong in the slowness and the stillness. I belong here in the raw spaces and
with the brightly colored river stones. I belong with the turtles and the frogs
that share my pools and the bald eagles that glide through open sky. I belong
to this body. This journey, and the four days of solo in particular have been a
process of re-learning what it feels like to be inside my body. It has been a
journey of reclaiming all of my senses: touch, taste, smell, sight, and
hearing.

Being in my solo nest I can hear the chatter of the river
deepen into a thick pulse. It is the heartbeat of this place. I plunge into the
water- again again again. Sinking heavy and deep into river and self. Shedding
with every dunk and plunge, the dead skin. The bits I have collected from here
or there. The bits that hold no worth, only weight and yet I carry them with me
in my pocket and my heart. Fears, insecurities, worries, selfish thoughts, and
dirt - I peel them off. No thank you, not today. I want to keep this newfound
lightness with me, because nothing is actually as hard as I once made it out to
be in my head. I want to keep this stillness in my busy body and this
playfulness in my young female body. I want to feel my own fragility and
smallness and celebrate it!

Since the beginning I have learned to come home, over again,
to so many different landscapes. I have learned how important it is to continue
to be amazed by things. To surrender to the river and let it move me both
physically and emotionally. I have learned about the Old People before me and
my mind has been filled by the words of nature philosophers and story tellers.
Out here it is easier to hear my wants. The shoulds and the shouldn'ts are
silenced.

Later in the evening I lay wrapped in my down cocoon looking
up. I watch sky fade to space, the barrier between me and it is dissolved by
starlight. I feel clean, balanced, refreshed, rested, content, sun-loved, and
so full of life that part of me is worried about moving in case I spill over. I
don't want a single drop of this experience to go to waste.

Monday, June 2, 2014

Sammy Lassoff writes about her experience of trying to hard and learning to let go in the Yolla Bolly Mountains:

Up until I had begun this program, I did not
recognize how truly disconnected from nature I was. It is crazy to think of how
detached I was from what my own two feet had been walking on for 18 years! I remember
being very little and splashing through the shallow beach waters with my
family, toddling through the foothills behind my house, scurrying in the grass
chasing after squirrels, and playing hide-and-seek with my toes in the sand.
However as I got older, my priorities required the attention that I was
convinced could only be given behind walls and closed doors. I spent all my
days in school struggling through hypotheticals and theories that I had no time
to be "outside." I spent years being told that life is work, hard
work. I was told that there is no time for play, to relax, to breathe,
"You must go to college, get a job, make money, spend money, etc."
Everything that could not contribute to my efforts had no purpose. Life
was tough work that, if better than another's work, will result in reward and
gratification that should be instant. I had lost all energy to be patient and
the know-how to be playful. I was mindlessly trudging up this dark, monotonous
road that my capitalistic education had slashed, burned, and bought itself.

However, this style of education could
not completely erase a human's intrinsic love of and connection to nature.
Proof of this was my initial draw to this program. Something buried deep in my
core made its way through the murky waters of my goal-oriented thoughts, making
itself known again. It was strong and persistent enough to enroll me in this
incredible experience, which is one of the best decisions I have ever made. In
my mind's eye, I had made many goals for myself while out in
"nature." I would rekindle my relationship to the land, find the
healing I needed to take back to my family, and become "enlightened"
from all of my problems. I was prepared to study and be taught specific
instructions on how to do so. The process would be difficult, but all my goals
would be reached.

Obviously, I was more disconnected from
nature (reality) then I had cared to admit. I was internally struggling so much
throughout my time in Death Valley, the Domelands, and the Lost Coast. For the
life of me, I could not understand why I felt so disconnected from the land.
Why was my body so resistant to finding comfort within dirt? Why was I blaming
the wind for my sour mood? Why weren’t the sun, the moon, the stars handing me
the answers to all of my most pressing questions? I was working so hard! I was
pushing myself to roll in the dirt, clenching my teeth as the wind tore through
my skin, and going numb in my sleeping bag under the black sky. I so stubbornly
insisted that I had found the one and only path to enlightenment and was
"reassured" by how much effort it required. But then why was I not
seeing quick results? My schooling had assured me that hard work would bring
instant result!

As you can tell, I was incredibly
frustrated. I was searching, yearning to be taught something. If I only stopped
to breathe, just for a moment, I would have seen that the answers were right
beside me. I needed to quiet my mind in order to open my eyes. No one was going
to teach me or tell me how to find them, simply because they are not something
to be found. I did not need to think so hard. I did not need to work through
some cryptic puzzle. "You do not have to be good. Your do not have to walk
on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting" (Mary
Oliver, Wild Geese). I needed to stop thinking and start being and accepting.
It is ok if I do not like the wind, Yell at him! It is ok to wash the dirt from
my skin and apply deodorant. The nature police won't lock me up for not being "tough"
enough”. I only have to let the soft animal of [my] body love what it
loves" (Oliver). There is no right way to embrace the natural world. Life
does not have to be hard. "Life is play" (Walker Abel, Sierra
Institute director). This program has led me to understand that my relationship
with nature is unique and beautiful. I finally feel connected.

About the Sierra Institute

The Sierra Institute presents an educational experience that complements academics with hands-on learning. We believe that learning about nature, whether through the study of natural history or the reading of environmental literature and philosophy, is best done in an outdoor setting.

Few people today have the opportunity to spend an extended period of time in the wilderness or immersed in another culture. By backpacking and base camping in the wilderness, both in America and other countries, our programs access remote locations that promote study and self-exploration. By living and working with people from diverse cultures we gain new perspectives of others and ourselves.

To learn more about upcoming Sierra Institute programs, visit extension.ucdavis.edu/sierra.